Bitter Season
by Moonchild10
Summary: Post-SH2. Maria receives a letter from James... a letter that he doesn't remember writing. Desperate for answers, James is willing to chase the truth, even if it means losing his last real connection to who he is. James x Maria. COMPLETE
1. South Ashfield

_Disclaimer: I don't own Silent Hill. Ever. _

_So... this is my obligatory "first Silent Hill fic" ^^; I originally wrote it as a standalone piece, but it's probably going to be about 5 or six chapters, just so I can tie up loose ends. Feedback is always appreciated, as are tips. This is based after the "Maria ending", but since I haven't actually gotten that ending yet, this is purely speculative... this was supposed to just be an exercise with characterizations of these two, but I liked it and I wanted to continue it XD  
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It had been long enough since the day of his return that James could once again blend into the fabric of everyday life. At first he had felt like a monster, like a bizarre, invisible thing that could not possibly exist among normal human beings. When someone spoke to him at first, he was unsure of how to speak back anymore. By and by, it grew easier, and soon James felt as though he was once again living his own life. His life was not a particularly remarkable one, and he blurred into the memories of those he met.  
James was a quiet man, and that was all his neighbors really knew about him. If they knew about the tormented soul that lingered just behind his face, they would have kept their distance. The torment was perhaps less so after his return from "vacation", as his father insisted it was, but it was still there. Mary was still gone, Mary was still dead, and he was no closer to reaching the answer of where she had disappeared to after that last ragged breath huffed against the pillowcase. He was no closer, for that matter, to solving the riddle of what would become of him.

"Where do you go after you've already been to hell?" he would often wonder when he woke in the cold winter light of this newly harshened world. Did the afterlife even have a place for James, who had been to that terrible town, seen terrible things, battled horrible demons who were not even there. James had seen his wife die in his mind's eye hundreds of times, had seen horrible creatures rend each other's flesh, had seen people, real people, die. He himself, as dark as the memory was that resonated behind his skull, killed two people. And so James wondered day after day, often aloud, and the mirror held no answers.

"I'm worried about you, James," his father told him on the rare occasions that they met for lunch or dinner. Frank Sunderland was not a large man, but he was a strong man, and James liked to think perhaps someday he could be equally strong, of mind at least. "You should move in to Ashfield Heights. That Eileen Galvin moved in with one of the other tenants, so her apartment is vacant. Consider it." Frank liked to tell James about his tenants, who he saw the way a priest might see his congregation. He knew all of them and their stories, from Charles Dunway the artist to Henry Townshend the introvert. James did not want to be added to this particular list of people just yet, and so he repeatedly answered "We'll see." More than a change of scenery, what he wanted was a real connection to people like his father seemed to have, which he found his own life devoid of after Mary's passing.

All of this and more was what had James in his current rut, and there didn't seem to be a way out of it. For the first few days after his return from Silent Hill, James had felt fresh and renewed, the sense of guilt that had so long plagued him mostly dissipated. However, after such a life-changing event it is easy to become stagnant once more, and people flitted in and out of his life like moths around an undependable porch light. He tried dating, but as most things were, it felt more like a chore than a pleasure. He gave up on it quickly. Increasingly, what he needed was a connection to the man he had been in the past, and nothing, not his father, not his job, not his home could give it to him.

James was so desperate for that old connection to life that when it came, he supposed he should have been happy for it. However, it was more traumatic than relieving. It came in the form of a knock on his door one particularly gray morning, when the sun in South Ashfield was so blanketed by clouds that James had had to turn on the lights although it was only eleven AM. He expected a repairman or someone come to check the meter, and so he was wholly unprepared when he opened the door.

"Did you miss me?" she asked, hand on her hip, dressed in a skintight snakeskin miniskirt. She looked like some sort of bizarre sight out of an 80's music video, and for a moment, James could only stare. "What's the matter, James? Not even going to say hello?"

"Maria..." James muttered, looking her up and down to make sure she wasn't about to fade away. "What are you doing here?"

"What kind of greeting is that?" her lips curved up in a wry smile. "What about, 'hi' and 'how have you been'?"

"I thought..." truthfully, James was not entirely sure what his previous notions had been. When they reached his car in the parking lot of Rosewater Park after the tedious escape from Silent Hill, they had parted ways, Maria assuring him she had people to see and places to go. James had not even been entirely sure that Maria was not simply a hallucination. Now that she was standing on his doorstep in the foggy morning air, her bomber jacket not even zipped against the cold, she looked more real than she had in that place. Silent Hill wasn't the real world, as he had told himself time and time again.

"You thought what, silly? That I was just going to disappear after you let me out of your sight?" Maria had not changed a bit and it was a little disconcerting to James, since he himself had become a much darker person since that time. She shifted her weight, leaning on her other hip. Her shirt looked uncomfortably tight and she was still wearing those thigh-high boots that James imagined could not have been very easy to run in.

"Well no, I just wasn't sure if... you were real," James' voice came out weaker than he had hoped.

"Of course I'm real, James," Maria assured him, looking more smug than the situation warranted. She stepped forward and placed a hand on his cheek. Her fingers were cold. "Do you need proof?"

"No, that's not it," James lifted his hand and carefully removed Maria's from his cheek. "I just... so much of what we saw in that place, I wasn't sure what I was really seeing and what I wasn't. There were things that couldn't have been real. So..."

"You mean Silent Hill?" Maria asked. She said it daringly, as though it was a challenge. "Forget about that place. Aren't you going to let me inside?"

"It's hard to forget," James sighed, looking away, and then looked back at her, expecting her to been gone. He stepped back and she moved into his living room, rubbing her arms against the chill outside. Shutting the door, James turned the conversation to more important matters. "How did you find me?"

"I got your letter," Maria replied, and instantly warning bells went off in James' head. He turned on her with a ferocity that surprised even him. Maria certainly didn't look like she was expecting it.

"What letter?" he demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders. If James had sent a letter, he would most certainly remember, and he had not written a single letter in years, especially not to someone he would rather have forgotten, someone who tied him to that terrible time in Silent Hill.

"You're hurting me, James," Maria gasped, and she sounded so much like Mary in that moment that James let go and jumped back as though she had burned him. Unexpectedly his eyes grew damp and he looked away quickly, vulnerability hitting him in waves. He was sure Maria could sense it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, resisting the impulse to add 'Mary' to the sentence. "What letter?" he asked when he had calmed down a bit, and Maria reached into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out the folded sheet of paper. Seeming slightly subdued after James' outburst, she held it out to him and he took it carefully, and he unfolded it. Inside he found, much to his own surprise, his own unmistakable handwriting, his own signature. With trembling hands he held the letter, reading it over and over again until his eyes started to burn.

"James?" Maria asked, and he felt her hand on his shoulder. This time, he didn't pull away.

"I don't remember writing this," he told her honestly, looking up. "And I had no idea where you were, Maria. How would I have sent you a letter?"

"I don't know," Maria replied offhandedly, glancing around the living room. "I supposed maybe you looked me up in the phone book? Something normal? But you don't remember writing this letter? If that's the case, then I'm not sure what normal is anymore," she sighed, plucking the letter from James' hand and stuffing it back into her pocket. The letter was gone, but its message remained clear in James' head and he felt a shiver go through him.

_I'll be waiting for you..._

It was what had been written in the letter just before it displayed his own signature.

There was the sudden sensation of being in cold water.

"Maria, are you sure that letter is from me?"

"You tell me," Maria replied, giving him a look he couldn't quite name. "It's your signature, and it led me to your address."

"But I didn't write it..." James covered his forehead with his cool hand.

"You could have forgotten about writing it," Maria claimed matter-of-factly. "Or you could have been drunk when you wrote it."

"But I _didn't_," James was forceful when he spoke, and Maria took a step backward, looking threatened. James was unsure why and for a moment he had the urge to comfort her. "I would remember... writing a letter..."

"Then who wrote it?" Maria demanded, sounding tired. "Who else would send a letter to me with your name on it?" her voice was climbing higher, and it was obvious she was becoming distressed. "All I know is that I got a letter that it said it was from you, and it said you wanted to see me. What was I supposed to think?"

"I don't know," James turned and busied himself straightening the stack of magazines on the table by the door. They were all from years ago. Mary had kept the newest editions there but James had lost track of their old subscriptions. Such trivial things didn't really matter when she was gone. For a moment there was silence, and when Maria's hand landed on his shoulder again, it startled him enough to make him jump.

"James?" she asked softly, and he turned around to find her eyes watching him, looking as afraid as he felt. She looked very small and very vulnerable for a moment, and she was reaching out to him. He did not want to push her away, but he did not want to give himself to her.

"What?"

"That isn't the first letter I've gotten from you," she said, almost in a whisper. "But the first didn't have a return address, so I didn't come until I got the second."

"What did the first letter say?" James asked, almost afraid of what the answer would be.

"I don't have it anymore, but it was short," Maria looked very, very far away. "It said... 'where do you go after you've been to hell'. Something like that. Something weird and... James?"

James had stepped back as she spoke, and his back hit the wall for support. Outside, the wind tapped a twig against the window again and again, a melancholy metronome to accompany his thoughts. It was a small and insignificant sound in a large, gray world.

And James still had no answers.

_To be continued._


	2. Highway

_Chapter two ^^; it's rife with symbolism. I really hope someone gets it._

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The fog was rising up around the sides of the road as Maria slammed her way out of James' house and into his driveway, where her car was still parked. It was a classic Thunderbird, obviously well-driven but maintained enough to still be beautiful. Maria zipped her jacket and slapped a hand onto the hood.

"Do you like it?" she asked, none too coyly, and James nodded. Any man would have to be crazy not to. Maria gave him a look that told him quite plainly that she knew what he was thinking and opened her car door. "Come on, get in. But are you sure you want to drive all this way just to see an envelope?"

"I'm sure," James told her. He wanted to validate his sanity, if anything. If he had really sent the letter, the envelope would provide concrete evidence, and it was what he needed more than anything. A normal person, a sane person, does not simply forget writing a letter. James supposed it spoke to his sanity to know this, but not much. As his immersed himself in his thoughts, Maria was unlocking the car door. She paused to cough several times into her hand and James shuddered at the many painful memories linked to the sound. All at once he felt frozen and had to rub his eyes with the heel of his hand. When he finished, he looked up to find Maria giving him a rather odd look.

"You okay?" she asked him as she pulled open the driver's side door. James looked at her without really seeing her and nodded faintly, and Maria disappeared inside the car. The handle of the door was cold in his fist and he opened it, Maria reuniting with his sight as he ducked into the car. She looked so carefree perched on the fake leather of her seat cover, fiddling with the seat belt and then turning to buckle it behind her back.

James buckled his seat belt and watched as Maria slid her keys into the ignition. Innumerable key chains dangled from the relatively small collection of keys- a house key, a car key, and what looked like the key to a keepsake chest, nearly identical to the one Mary had kept from her childhood (though he knew it couldn't be. They were custom made, after all. Still, it hurt him to look at it)- and they jumbled together in a small mess. The engine whined in protest as Maria turned the key.

"Dammit," she hissed, trying again and receiving the same result. The despairing _chug chug chug_ of the engine as it tried to come to life made James want to cover his ears. Maria sat back in her seat and sighed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. For just a moment she looked extremely worn and then she dropped her hand and looked over at him.

"Well, I guess I won't be driving," she told him wryly. "Would you mind doing the honors, James? I'll give you directions."

"I suppose not," James ducked back out of the car and dug for his own keys deep in the pocket of his jeans. His car was nothing to rival Maria's but it was functional enough, and Maria gave it a rather critical once-over once they were inside.

"It's cleaner than I expected… clean for a man's car, anyway. You're full of surprises as always, James."

James ignored her. "Do you still have that letter?"

"Relax," Maria laughed a little at him, dipping into her pocket and pulling out the paper. She waggled it in his face before returning it to its place. "All we did was walk through your driveway. How could I possibly lose it already? What, you don't trust me?" she leaned a little closer over the caddy between the two bucket seats. James ignored her again, and Maria gave a little huff. "You don't trust me, do you?"

"I don't know what to trust anymore," James replied, and Maria sneered at him.

"That's just your fancy way of saying 'no', isn't it?" she asked, her hand falling onto his arm and caressing him through his jacket. "You can trust me, James. I'm not like everyone else, you know?"

James pulled his arm away and was conscious of her looking offended as he started the car. "I don't know what you're talking about." he eased out of the driveway and headed left, heeding to Maria's mutter and gesture.

"They look at you like you're crazy, don't they?" she asked after a moment, when they were on the road in the fog. "You disappeared for weeks, didn't you? And you thought it was only days. All of a sudden you come back out of nowhere with ghosts in your eyes like someone who's been away in a mental hospital, and they don't know how to deal with you anymore…"

"Shut your mouth," James told her, a little harsher than he meant to. "You don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"Sure I do," Maria's voice was a little crueler now, a little less sweet and pensive. "They think you've gone raving mad, James. I'm the only one who understands you anymore, now that you've been to that place. Even your precious Mary wouldn't look at you the same now…"

James lurched the car onto the shoulder, stopped it, and turned to face her, seething with rage and not entirely sure what his next course of action was going to be. For a moment he saw himself striking her and it bothered him. "Be quiet," he told her instead, his voice shaking. "Don't you _dare_ talk about Mary!"

"Why not?" Maria was giving him a vindictive smile. "I know things about her you don't, James. I know how she would sit up in the hospital waiting and waiting for her precious James, the one who would never come. I know how she wanted so badly to see you, and at the same time she hated you, and she wished you were the one there dying instead of her-"

This time James did strike her, much to his own shame. The back of his hand collided with her cheek with quite a lot of force and the sound of it rang out through the car, out into the silent foggy air. For a moment there was stillness and Maria's hand came up to touch her own cheek as she looked at him with shock and with a little bit of tearfulness, her cruelness gone as suddenly as it had come. James could see that his wedding ring had cut into her cheek just a bit and a tiny trickle of blood ran down to the corner of her mouth, the exact color of her lipstick.

"James…" she whispered, and she sounded so much like Mary that for a moment it disgusted him to look at her. "Why would you… how could you hurt me?"

"I'm sorry," he said, more tenderly than he normally would have allowed. But Maria wasn't having any of it. She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the car door, her boots making a loud clack as they contacted with the asphalt. She moved with a swing in her hips like a dancer even when she was angry, and James watched numbly for a moment as she started to walk away. Then he got out of the car and started to follow her.

"Maria," he said as he caught up to her, and she sped up a little. "Wait. Don't go," she was moving at a steady pace down the side of the road, ignoring him. He caught her arm and turned her to face him, and he saw that despite her usual obvious strength and confidence, her face was streaked with tears.

"You just don't want to be alone," she told him bitingly. "You don't care if it's me or it's Mary or anyone else… you don't give a damn about me, James, and we both know it. You'd kill me without a thought if it meant you'd get your Mary back."

"I wouldn't kill you," James told her honestly, though a nagging voice at the back of his mind questioned the validity of his answer.

"Of course you would," Maria hissed, grabbing his left hand and showing it to him. "Because she's dead and you still wear this damn ring. Would you wear a ring for _me_, James? After I was dead and gone? I don't think so," she took the slightly bloodied ring off his finger with a dry sob and threw it hard off into the fog.

"Maria…" he was unsure what to say. His first impulse was to go after the ring but he knew it would make matters much worse. Somehow it felt a little freeing to have the ring off of his finger for a moment, and immediately he felt guilty for the feeling. "Come back to the car," he said helplessly.

"Why should I?" she snapped. But she was losing fight and he could see it. "You know what, fine. It's cold out here anyway." she turned and started walking for the car, hands in her jacket pockets. "Get me out of here."

James followed her rather timidly. Back in the car, he touched the cut on her cheek gently with his fingertips before drawing out his handkerchief and wiping the blood away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I did that to you," but he was unsure if he was saying it to Maria or to that ever-present ghostly memory of his wife, never far when he looked at Maria. He still had the cloth to her cheek when she pushed his hand away and climbed into his seat with him, straddling him and pushing her skirt up dangerously far onto her upper thighs.

"James," she whispered haphazardly, her fingers twining themselves through his hair. Her warm body pressed closer as she rocked her hips against him. "Make it up to me?"

"Stop it," he told her, but she just pressed closer. He had learned long ago that Maria was one to stick to her own desires even if it meant causing a lot of discomfort. He wasn't surprised when she simply pressed harder against him, grinding herself on him a bit. The natural response his body had disgusted him. "I mean it. Stop."

"Don't be so naïve, James," she told him softly, her lips tracing the shell of his ear. "I know you're restraining yourself because I'm not your Mary. But she isn't here. And I am."

She really _wasn't_ Mary, he mused as he watched her giving him a sultry smile and moving her hips against him. Despite their similar features, he could not imagine Mary doing something like this. She kissed him them and some dark, forgotten part inside of him made him kiss her back. It had been years, so many years, since he had last felt these sensations and his body took charge accordingly. Dimly aware of Maria unbuckling his belt, he wanted to stop her but at this point it was impossible. She tasted cleaner than he had expected, almost like butterscotch.

_"Why bother?"_ he asked himself as she fumbled with his zipper and her underwear. He hated himself, but simply let it happen, and what was more, in some perverse way he enjoyed it. He was an animal now, he was sure of it. What kind of a man ravages another woman when he has still yet to atone for killing his wife, he wondered.

Maria was quick about it, and soon she was still as she pressed herself against him, strands of her sweaty hair sticking to his face, whispering in his ear and making him feel dirtier still as they settled.

"Is that better?" she whispered, and he hated her and hated himself and hated Mary for making him feel so torn. Instead of replying he ignored the woman who was still straddling him as she adjusted her skirt and was smiling at him like she _knew_. She was caressing his face almost possessively and it took everything in him not to wrench away.

"It _is_ better, isn't it?" he asked. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" she didn't sound mocking as he would expect, however, and her words were somehow soothing. She bent to kiss his cheek and somehow, in some twisted way, for a moment James felt almost loved.

It wasn't long before Maria had returned to her own seat, and soon they were driving again, Maria pointing out where and when to turn and James following her direction blindly like a dog. He did not want to take his eyes off the road, because at one point he looked down and saw his wedding ring on his finger.


	3. Shepherd's Glen

_There are officially two more chapters after this one. Not that anyone is actually reading this fic XD_

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There was a long period that stretched farther than the black hills around them during which James did not speak to Maria. She seemed to take the hint and only spoke to give him directions, and all in all the trip was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

"Oh, come on James," Maria said at length with a soft sigh. "Giving me the silent treatment, are we?"

James glanced over at her and saw that she was reading the letter again. She had it spread out in her lap. "Put that somewhere safe," he told her, ignoring her previous statement.

"So he _can_ still talk," she said with a wry smile. "Don't worry about this old letter, James. I'm not going to let anything happen to it, since it's so damn important to you, for some reason," as she spoke she was folding the letter, and she opened her bomber jacket and slid the piece of paper into the interior pocket, zipping it. "There. Nothing is going to happen to it now. So stop worrying about it."

"I'm not worrying about it," James insisted, and Maria laughed.

"Yes you are," she muttered. "Why is it that every time there's something else to focus your attention on, you put it before me? First Mary, now this stupid letter."

"Why are you acting so jealous?" James asked, confused. Maria's behavior rarely made any sense to him but today this seemed to be taken to the extreme.

"Because I'm supposed to be yours," she said plainly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You said you wanted me. You said you wanted me with you. Why would you say that if you didn't mean it?"

"I… I did mean it…" bewildered, James wondered if he should stop the car. It wasn't entirely clear to him whether Maria was serious or not. He could still feel her eyes boring into him and he happened to glance sideways to see that she was smiling.

"I'm just kidding, James," she told him playfully. "You're so easy to tease. Did you know that?" James really had nothing to say to this and he ignored her for a moment. Maria leaned across the gap between their seats and he could feel her fingers as they began to move through his hair. In a way, it was pleasant, an affectionate little gesture that he had not felt in years. "Did Mary tease you like this, too?"

"Can we not talk about Mary?" James as cautiously, keeping his tone guarded. "I'd rather not talk about her."

"Why?" Maria sounded amused. "She's your wife, after all."

"She _was_ my wife," James corrected her, and he swore the ring on his finger burned. "But that was before." slowly, he was beginning to feel as though he was cutting the ties to his past, and Maria seemed to be helping in her own often hurtful way.

"And now you have me, right?" she still sounded amused, as though she didn't really believe it. "But what I want to know is, am I just a replacement? When you're fucking me, will you really just be fucking Mary in your head, James?" her tone was odd, innocence layered with accusation. There was that anger again and this time James simply slammed on the breaks, not bothering to move to the shoulder.

"Stop it, Maria," he told her. "Stop it right now."

"Why?" she asked, red red lips curved upward in a smile that told him quite plainly she knew all his fears, his doubts and insecurities. "Because it's true, or because you're afraid of it _not_ being true?"

"Just stop," suddenly, James was very tired. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "It's not true. You know it's not true, Maria. I told you before, I have you now. I told you it was all that mattered. There's no point to any of this at all."

"So do you love me, then?" Maria asked, and the air in the car seemed to thicken. The silence stretched long and dead and she humphed. "I didn't think so."

"It's not like that, Maria," James told her helplessly. Maria's eyes were turned away from him, far far away. All at once recognition flashed across her features and she turned back to him, seeming to have forgotten about the topic at hand. James was relieved.

"Good timing stopping the car, James," she said, stretching leisurely. The sign before them said _Shepherd's Glen, 1 mile_ and James was struck with a little tremor at the fact that it was Mary's hometown. An eerie coldness was filling the car and James quickly pressed the gas. There were far too many coincidences here, too many details that overlapped. It was beginning to chill him. Maria was uncommonly silent on that last stretch of foggy road and James was grateful for it. He didn't want any more of her probing comments are disturbing insight into what made him tick. Already his head was throbbing.

After five minutes of silence, Maria leaned forward and switched on the radio, turning the dial around at random until she found something satisfactory and then sat back. "I met this little girlie, her hair was kinda curly. Went to her house and bust her out, I had to leave real early…" she sang along with the radio, and James sighed and rubbed his temple with one hand.

"Maria, could you shut that off? I have a headache."

"It's tricky to rock a rhyme, to rock a rhyme that's right on time. It's tricky...tricky tricky tricky…"

James leaned forward and turned the radio off, and Maria sat back in her seat, sighing.

"You're no fun, James," she told him, staring out the window. James thought she was being incredibly juvenile but said nothing. He knew he was on thin ice with her already, and didn't want to make things even more uncomfortable. Making the turn from highway 90 to Shepherd's Glen made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. There was the most uncomfortable feeling on the air, as though something was lying dormant in the town, waiting for him.

Shepherd's Glen was a relatively small town and it wasn't long before Maria was pointing out a small house across from a tackle and bait store. James got out of the car with her, and tried not to glance out toward Toluca Lake. It was impossible not to notice the rising rooftop of the Lakeview Hotel on the other side. This close proximity to Silent Hill jarred something inside James, something primal and wrong. It was impossible to explain and James was relieved that he was the only one conscious of it. He watched Maria digging her ring of keys out of her pocket calmly, barely conscious of the cold wind that bit at his cheeks.

"James…" the whisper was sudden and warm against the back of his neck and he whirled around with a hand clapped there, glancing wildly around for the source. He saw nothing but parked cars, houses with doors locked tight against the cold, and a fat orange cat lumbering toward a front porch. Shaking off the momentary terror, James turned back to find Maria watching him curiously, now holding her keys.

"What's wrong?" she asked him gently.

"Nothing. I thought I heard…"

"Heard what, James?"

"Nothing. The wind, really," he replied halfheartedly, not wanting to utter the name that was on the edge of his tongue. Because Mary was dead. Dead people don't whisper in people's ears.

"Come on, James," Maria said, jarring him back to the real world. She jingled her keys at him. "Let's go inside and find your precious envelope, huh?" she was smiling brightly at him and it was almost unfair how carefree she seemed when the looming presence of that terrible town was so very near.

"Okay," James agreed numbly, following her up the peeling wooden steps. The house needed a new coat of paint and there was dust on the window boxes. James took all this in while Maria slid her key into the lock, attempted to turn it, and cursed.

"My keys hate me today," she muttered. "Maybe I got them mixed up…" she tried the other key to no avail and sighed. "Dammit, why isn't this working?"

"Could it have something to do with that?" James asked, pointing to the sheet of paper taped to the door. Maria snatched it and her eyes darted over the lines of print with surprising speed.

"I've been evicted," she hissed when she finally lowered it. "My possessions have been moved into storage and I'll have to pay the full cost of storing them."

"Why would you get evicted?" James wondered out loud.

"Apparently, I haven't paid my rent," Maria said with a deep frown. "I had autopay set up… it must be the bank's fault. I'll call them… clear it up later." she turned to James, hands in her pockets, and looked uncharacteristically small and helpless. "Sorry, James. I guess we're not getting that envelope."

James' soul fell just a little. With the hope of getting into that house lost, his hope for discovering the answer to where in the world the letter had come from was lost as well. It was a question that had not stopped burrowing into his brain since the moment Maria had first mentioned it, and now it seemed they were at a dead end.

"Can I see the letter again?" he asked, and Maria nodded, reaching into her jacket and unzipping the inner pocket. After a moment of feeling around, she looked up at him, obviously bewildered.

"I can't find it."

"What do you mean, you can't find it?" James asked, panic rising in his throat.

"I mean it isn't there," Maria told him, slightly haughty. "It's not where I left it."

"It has to be," James told her. "Check again."

"It's not there, James," Maria said firmly, digging through her pocket again. "And there's no hole, either, so it couldn't have just fallen out."

"Letters don't just disappear," James argued.

"And letters don't just send themselves," Maria reminded him. "It wouldn't be the first thing we can't explain."

"But that letter…" James muttered.

"Forget the letter," Maria said indignantly. "It's time to think about more important things. Like the fact that I don't have a home anymore." she moved a bit closer to him and James was conscious of the way she was looking at him with those eyes, those impossibly wintry blue eyes. "James, you said you wanted me with you, right? Will you let me stay with you? At least just… until I can get this sorted out?"

"Of course," James replied. It was the least he could do, really, after pulling her along on a wild goose chase and constantly making her feel second to a woman who was dead. He was very conscious of the fact that she deserved better. Making the decision to be with her, more or less, should have come with more changes on his part than it had. Even now he could feel himself drawing back into himself, withholding a part of himself as she pressed her forehead to his chest.

"Thanks," she cooed, her voice its usual seductive purr again now that she was no longer distressed. "Mm, you smell nice, James."

James stepped back a little, holding her at arm's length, and looked at her without really seeing her. "We should get going."

"Not so fast," Maria's lip twitched a bit in amusement as she stepped close again and enclosed her thin arms around his waist. "Don't I even get to show you my gratitude?"

"Here?" James asked, surprised, and Maria laughed.

"Such a dirty boy," she teased, raking her left hand's bubblegum pink painted nails gently down his cheek. "Get your mind out of the gutter, James. I don't mean _that_." she pressed just a little closer and James was a bit ashamed that he wanted to recoil. That wedding ring on his finger… it bit down on him, he swore. "I _do_ like to do other things, you know," she shifted herself upward and pecked him on the lips. James was suddenly very conscious of the scent of her perfume. It didn't smell cheap.

"Maria…" James began, but Maria pressed a finger to his lips.

"Stop it," she said. "You're not nearly as cute when you talk," she replaced her finger with her lips and her warmth created a barrier against the cold on his front. James wanted to pull away and he hated her all over again, in the meanest, most twisted way, but hate dulled itself when he realized it was misplaced hate. In reality, he only hated _himself_. He had let Mary die, and now Maria was reminding him of a time before that fateful night. It was a wonderful sensation he couldn't forgive her for.

James tried to extract himself from the embrace but Maria was too busy kissing him to allow it. She smiled just a little when he managed to pull away for a moment, and the flashing of her eyes reminded him all over again that she was certainly not Mary.

"Stop fighting so much," she purred. "I know you like it, James."

In the cold, windy street James experimentally held her and he found it not painful, nothing like holding Mary, so there was nothing to tie it to traumatic memories. It was harder and harder to think of Mary when Maria was kissing him, and somehow he allowed himself to give in to her for the second time in one day, though this time she broke it off before the evidence of his yearning could show itself.

"There, was that so bad?" she asked, smiling at him. "Next time, just go with it, alright? It's easier for both of us that way. Now let's go. I want to get out of here. I want to go back to your place."

"Okay," somehow, though their quest had turned up empty James felt significantly more agreeable than he had when they had arrived in Shepherd's Glen, and he followed her down the front walk toward the car. Before getting in Maria opened her mailbox.

"I might as well get my mail," she said offhandedly, reaching inside. There was only one thing in the mailbox, and as she held the simple white envelope in her hands, they began to tremble.

"Maria? What is it?"

"It's another from you," she replied. "And I'm guessing you didn't send it?"

"No," James assured her, watching as she slid a manicured nail under the flap and tore it open, drawing out the letter. She unfolded it with shaky hands.

"It's another short one," she informed him. "It says 'Maria, I'll be waiting for you in Heaven's Night, James'." slowly, her eyes came up to meet his and the change of plans passed between them without words. They didn't need to say it. They both knew what was going to happen next.

James put the car in drive and slowly, reluctantly, he guided it down the road that would take them around Toluca Lake, back to that shadowy and foreboding place he had hoped he could put from his mind forever. Increasingly, he was beginning to see that once one has been to Silent Hill, they never really leave. With Maria beside him he resolved himself to be prepared for whatever was going to happen next.

The ring on his finger burned more than ever.


	4. Heaven's Night

_One chapter to go after this one XD and I apologize if Maria's last name makes the cameo I'm setting up a little too obvious._

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James felt increasingly suffocated as he moved down the shabbier and shabbier stretches of road that led from Shepherd's Glen around Toluca Lake. He could sense Maria's discomfort almost as acutely as he could feel his own. When her hand came across the gap between the seats, reaching for him, he took it. Her fingers felt warm clasped within his own and sent a jolt of something terrifyingly familiar through him. Over the course of the day something inside of him had shifted completely, and now somehow, pushing her away from him didn't seem like such a good idea.

_'I've been trying so hard to distance myself from her…'_ he thought. But now, going back to that terrible place, it was hard to want to. Mary was in the ground now, and Maria was here. It was the inescapable truth that he had been wanting to deny all along. Mary was gone, and closing himself off from Maria wasn't going to bring her back. Experimentally, he squeezed Maria's hand, and she squeezed back.

"Maria?" he asked as they crossed a bridge over the rushing river.

"What is it, James?" she asked him, and he looked sideways to see her watching him.

"Was it always this way? Silent Hill, I mean?" James took a deep breath. "Mary and I… we went once, together, and it was normal then. But was Silent Hill always this way… for you?"

Maria seemed to recede deep inside herself for a moment as though she was struggling to remember, and then she shook her head. "No, it wasn't. I think… I was born there. Things were different back then. Until the day I met you, there were people in the town. It was just a normal Podunk town before that, and then those monsters started turning up in the fog. It was almost like they replaced the people. I don't… remember what happened for a while before that day, but I know it wasn't like that before."

"Wait, that was the first day?" James asked. Maria nodded. "But why was everything so broken... so run down? It was like it had been that way for years."

"Well, it hadn't," Maria assured him haughtily. "Don't ask me why that happened."

"I'm not saying I don't believe you," James told her. "I'm just surprised."

"Well aren't you just a gentleman, making sure I'm not taking your comments the wrong way," Maria said, her tone teasing but not malicious. "A girl could really fall in love with you James."

"I wouldn't say that."

"I would," Maria replied, and her tone was laden with purpose. James gave her hand another light squeeze and Maria's thumb started stroking the back of his hand.

Oddly enough, as they neared Silent Hill, the fog on the road seemed to diminish little by little. The clouds were beginning to thin, and a weak winter sunlight made the damp road glisten ahead of them. It didn't seem fitting, given the circumstances, and it made James' skin break out in goosebumps. He kept driving nonetheless, and before long they were passing the telltale _Welcome to Silent Hill_ sign that made James want to turn right back around. This time, where there had been an enormous gate blocking the way into the city beyond the rest stop parking lot, there was only more road. A town wasn't suppose to just spontaneously change, he thought. A town was not alive.

Maria began to fidget as they passed through onto Nathan Avenue and headed west, and James could not deny that his skin was crawling as well. The city looked the same as it had during James' previous visit, but the debris and scattered monster corpses had apparently vanished into thin air; the sun-glistening streets were clean. The buildings no longer looked dilapidated. Cars were parked here and there, and they did not look abandoned. Despite the city's less-than-foreboding appearance, James looked in the rearview mirror, expecting the road to have crumbled away behind them. However, there was only an innocent stretch of road, no enormous chasm.

"It looks… the way I remember it," Maria said softly, glancing around the window. They actually passed several over cars driving by, and it did not seem right. James was shaken to his very core by the nostalgia that swept through him.

"It looks the way I remember it too."

Turning onto Carroll Street, James was slightly shaken by the town's appearance yet again. Families were coming out of the bowling alley, and truckers filled up their rigs at Texxon. Suddenly James remembered their purpose, and hoped the town's current state would not complicate things.

"Will there be people in Heaven's Night, too?" he wondered out loud, and Maria laughed.

"Of course not. It's not open during the day, silly," she said, elbowing him gently. "Haven't you ever been to a strip club?" James shrugged noncommittally and Maria laughed again. "Oh James, you haven't! You're like a virgin! It's adorable!"

"Mary and I met when we were young," James muttered, very faintly offended. "I never really had any reason to go to one." he pulled into the parking lot of the club and put the car in park. Maria leaned across the gap between the seats once more.

"Well, since that's the case, I'd be happy to give you a private dance," she said, her voice a low purr against the shell of his ear, and James was not sure whether to be irritated or intrigued, despite the fact that she surely wasn't serious. Slowly, he turned his head to face her and simply stared at her.

"Don't get so embarrassed," she told him, brushing his hair back. They stared at each other for a moment, and then James took his keys from the ignition and transferred them to his pocket, moving to get out of the car. Before he could Maria grabbed his arm and he turned around back, alarmed, as Maria pressed herself against his chest.

"What is it?"

"James, I'm scared," she said in a whisper. Her carefree demeanor had disappeared rapidly.

"What?"

"I know things aren't like they were last time. There aren't those monsters, and things are normal. But whoever- whatever- sent me that letter… is inside, waiting for me."

"If you don't want to go in, we don't have to," James said in as comforting tone as he could. He placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. It had been quite some time since he had spoken to someone this way, and he had to admit he was a bit rusty.

"No, I want to go," Maria said. "I feel like… I have to. I want to know. I want to know why I got that letter. I know it wasn't from you, and I want to know why someone would send me a letter _pretending_ to be you, or if it's from a ghost or if I just imagined the whole thing. Or if I'm crazy. I just feel like I need answers. I'm not going to get them any other way, now am I?"

"Maria…" James said, concerned.

"Just promise me something. Promise me… that you won't leave me alone," she said, looking up at him slightly tearfully. She looked so afraid and so utterly vulnerable that James could not help the tug he felt in the region of his heart.

"I promise," he replied. It was really the least he could do. Maria smiled very faintly then.

"Thanks," she muttered. She tilted her head up and kissed his lips once more, and this time James did not recoil. The moment was brief. "Hey James, I love you, you know?" the way she said it was almost casual, but the words did not lessen any in their intensity. "I'm not sure how. I haven't known you for long at all. It could have something to do with me having some of your dead wife's memories, for some reason. Because I do remember things I know I shouldn't. But then… maybe it's something more than that. No, it _has_ to be more than that. I guess I just wanted you to know, in case things don't go exactly perfect in here."

James was not entirely sure what to do with this new information. He simply stared at Maria for a moment, and she stared back, her expression almost a challenge to his silence. Then finally, she looked away.

"Well don't get so happy," she muttered, smiling a little cruelly at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Maria I…" James swallowed. Words failed him and Maria's hand brushed his cheek gently. Her fingers were even warmer than he had remembered.

"You don't have to say anything," she said, pursing her lips for a moment and then smiling again. "I know. I'm not Mary, and I never will be. Just… don't worry about it, huh?"

James was grateful for the out, and watched as Maria dug in her boot and pulled out her set of Heaven's Night keys. He felt as surprised as Maria looked when he pressed a hasty kiss to her cheek. He hadn't really planned on doing it.

"Let's go," he said, fully ready to face the unknown now. This morning he had resolved to find the answers to the questions Maria's reappearance had brought about, and now those answers were so close he could almost hear them. He had a feeling that they both desperately desired and feared the illumination that waited behind the doors. Slowly, Maria nodded, looking like she was bracing herself.

"Okay," she answered, her hand sliding onto the door handle. "Let's go."

Maria led James around to the door in the alley once more and with trembling hands she unlocked it. Her usual sense of playful confidence was nowhere to be found and she reached for James' hand like a frightened child. He let her take it.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Maria smiled wryly at him. "Of course. But what are you asking me for? We both know you want to know where that letter came from just as badly as I do."

"You're right," James admitted. Maria took a deep, rather loud breath and pushed the door open. It made an ominous creak under her hand and the two of them stepped forward into the foreboding darkness. Maria reached past James to click the lights on, and almost immediately both stared forward into the newly brightened club, expecting the worst.

"There's nobody here," Maria sounded both relieved and irritated. "We came all this way for nothing."

Glancing around the empty room, James felt his tension and hope deflating. For the second time that afternoon they had reached a particularly frustrating dead end. The reasons for those letters and their origins still lingered just beyond his reach, and he wanted to drop to the ground in despair for a moment. He supposed it was for the best; neither of them had thought to bring a weapon. Despite this, it was still hard not to wish there actually _had_ been something there.

"What do we do now?" he asked a bit helplessly, and Maria sighed.

"I suppose we shouldn't let our time go to waste," she replied. "Want me to make you a drink, James? I can shake you a martini you'll never forget."

James shifted his weight and the car keys in his pocket clinked slightly. "Why not?" he asked. "We're here, after all."

"Well look who's loosening up," Maria said with a playful grin. She was still holding onto James' hand and she pulled him in the direction of the bar. He followed obediently. "I'm glad you're trying to enjoy yourself for once. You're so serious all the time, James."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I don't think I've ever seen you smile," Maria slipped behind the bar and rested her elbows on it, then dropped her chin onto her elbows. "Does _anything_ make you smile?"

"I don't know," James stepped to his left and seated himself on one of the barstools.

"Really?" Maria looked like she wanted to laugh. "You don't know? What about sex, does that make you smile?" she was just trying to get a rise out of him and he knew it, so James ignored her. "Oh come on James, don't get so mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Sure, you're not. Whatever you say." Maria moved away from him and started digging around under the cupboard. "I was just joking about the martini… what does James Sunderland drink when he's out? I'll make that."

"Scotch?" James asked, and Maria tsked.

"How boring," she muttered, turning around to grab a bottle of scotch. "Well… I'll tell you what. The first time I see you smile, I'll just up and marry you. Or at least feel you up. How does that sound?"

"Do you really have to be so vulgar?" James asked as Maria slid the drink down the bar like an old New York bartender and he caught it.

"It's part of the job description. I'm at work right now, remember?"

Finally something clicked. James felt ridiculous for not putting two and two together before. "Oh, you work here?"

"What, did you think I stole the keys or something? Of course I work here." hand on her hip, Maria turned to face him as he took a long drink of scotch. "You don't pay any attention to me at all, do you?"

"Yes I do," James said helplessly as Maria made herself a gin and tonic and then leaned on the counter again as she started to drink it slowly. "It's just that you've never really even told me anything about yourself. How was I supposed to know?"

"You're supposed to _ask_," Maria said helpfully. "Some gentleman you are."

"Well, then I'm asking now."

"What's there really to say? I was born in Silent Hill, moved to Paleville with my family when I was fourteen, ran away when I was sixteen and stayed with my brother in Ashfield for a while but then… I came back here. It was almost like… almost like I _had_ to."

"Like something… brought you here?" James asked. He knew the feeling. Maria nodded.

"Something like that. But anyway, I got a job here at sixteen- they don't do the most thorough background checks ever- and eventually I just bought the club. Even after I moved to Shepherd's Glen I still spent more time here than there. That's all there really is to know. And I don't need to ask you anything about you, now do I? I already know everything about you."

"How?"

Maria shrugged. "I don't know. I just… do, I guess."

"You never thought it was strange?"

"Of course I did, but what was I really going to do about it? I guess it's kinda weird to know how someone likes their eggs and how their hair feels between your fingers before you ever feel it, but then again everything was weird when I first figured out these memories of you. There were monsters everywhere. I guess I didn't think much about it, but now that I think about it, it was pretty weird, don't you think? I could barely even remember who I was, but I could remember everything about a man I'd never even met."

James stared very hard at her for a moment. "Are you… completely sure you're not Mary?" he asked, just to be safe. These memories she was talking about… seemed strange belonging to anyone but Mary. Maria laughed.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she asked, tipping back all of her gin and tonic and looking very faintly miserable.

"No, I wouldn't," James said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"You wouldn't?" Maria asked, her tone slightly mocking. "You wouldn't like me gone and replaced with that wife of yours?"

"No," James assured her, placing his hand rather clumsily on top of hers on the counter. "I… like having you here with me, Maria."

Maria smiled. "That's all I ever really wanted to hear, you know?"

"I _didn't_ know."

Maria pulled her hand away and turned to make herself another drink. James took a slow swig of his scotch and looked down at his hands on the counter. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed that under his left one, there was what looked like a newspaper article. Lifting his hand, he caught sight of a photo of an attractive dark-haired woman at the top of it, and the recognition was almost instantaneous.

"Maria… is this you?" he asked. Maria turned, fresh drink in hand, and he held the paper out to her. She took it, sipping at her drink.

"Yeah, this is from before I did my hair… what is this?" for a moment she was still, reading and sipping, and then with a shaking hand she set her drink down on the counter and looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and horrified. "James…" he had never heard her sound quite this affected.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" James asked, about to get up and move over to her, but she held the paper out to him before he could.

"Read this," she whispered, looking faintly blurred. Confused, James took the clipping from her outstretched hand and held it closer to his face- the lighting in the club wasn't exactly brilliant. The clipping was small and torn, only showing a few paragraphs of its article beside the photo, but James read it anyway.

_At 3:00 AM, while attempting to leave Heaven's Night after her shift, dancer Maria Townshend was attacked by an unknown assailant. When she failed to give the would-be robber money, she was repeatedly stabbed and then strangled. Townshend was-_

The clipping tore off at that point, obliterating all hope of deciphering any more of its message, but the purpose was incredibly clear. Hands shaking, James lowered the clipping to look at Maria, whose face was streaked with tears.

"I… don't… I don't remember," she whimpered, sounding terrified. James was conscious of the deep bruises around her neck as he got up from his stool and slowly came around the counter. "I don't remember."

"Maria…" he said softly, coming closer to her. She drew back, pressing herself against the row of shelves behind her.

"How could I not remember?" she asked him. "How can someone forget something like that? James… James…" she was sobbing now and it was difficult to make out the words.

"It's alright," James told her, reaching for her and pulling him to her. She was wet where the blood from her stab wounds was soaking through her clothes and James could feel her blood wetting his jacket as he situated her against his chest. "It's okay."

"It's not okay!" Maria fairly shouted, and James wrapped his arms as tightly around her as he could. It had been years since he had held someone this close. He desperately wanted to stop her crying, though he was starting to tear up a bit as well. Somehow, glancing down at the newspaper clipping that had fluttered from his hand and onto the floor, he felt that they had found exactly what was waiting for Maria. It was not a 'who' at all.

"James," Maria sobbed as James slid to the floor with her still in his arms, sat with his back against the back of the bar and held her even closer, willing this moment to be a dream. Pressing his face into her hair, James rocked Maria slightly. He was beginning to become wet with her blood. She was still crying, and he needed, more than anything, for her to stop. Biting back his own terror at the sudden revelation he tipped her head back, he kissed her, he ran his trembling fingers as gently as he could through her hair. Over and over he whispered her name until she was more or less calm.

"In that alley… that night…" Maria whispered, her voice so low he could barely hear her. "I was alone. I was all alone. No one came, no matter how much I screamed…" the bold, confident Maria he knew was somewhere behind this almost childlike mask of fear, though it was hard to believe. "Please James… don't leave me alone…"

"I won't leave you alone," James promised, feeling lost and a little frightened himself, as though he was losing a part of himself. "Never. I promise."

Maria seemed content, and she rested her head against his chest, wrapping her arms loosely around his waist. "I'm so tired…" she muttered, sounding a million miles away.

"Then go to sleep," James whispered gently. "I'll be here. I promise."

For a moment they just sat like that, the two of them enclosed for that brief time in a world that consisted of only the two of them, Maria's thin body warm in his arms, her hair tickling his chin. James expected it to be gradual, but it wasn't. It was achingly sudden. One moment Maria was whispering his name into his shirtfront and the next, James' arms were full of nothing but air.

"Maria…" he muttered. For several minutes he simply sat there, numb, and then slowly he climbed to his feet. He did not want to look at Maria's drink that still sat on the bar top. He only wanted to walk. With grim determination James moved toward the door, toward the outside world. He took a moment to look back, to feel a tug on his heart that was both sweet and bitter. Then, gathering every last bit of his courage, he opened the door and stepped out into the light.


	5. Extended Ending

_Well, it's cameo time... and time for the final chapter. Thank you to the two of you who reviewed and the rest of you who lurked XD I appreciate everyone's interest in this fic even if it was silent. _

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It was surprising to James, even looking back on how much things had changed over the course of that day with Maria, that it felt like somehow a large part of him was missing as he drove back into the fog and headed for South Ashfield, strangely numb. All that was left of Maria was a tube of lipstick on the seat and he tried not to look at it. Somewhere between Silent Hill and Shepherd's Glen, it rolled onto the floor and disappeared from view. James was relieved.

It seemed like madness for James to settle back into his quiet little routine after everything that had happened, but he did it nonetheless. When Maria had come out of nowhere she had brought with her a small tie to his past, to the man he was before he grew stagnant in his own solitude. Now that she was gone, that tie seemed to have disappeared as well. James went back to his quiet madness because it was all he knew now, and the numbness from that car ride back to Ashfield settled in and kept him company.

To be fair, James knew he should not have been nearly so distraught over the whole situation. Maria had been dead all along, he told himself. It wasn't as though she had died before his eyes. But still, the revelation that she was gone was a crushing blow. It took some getting used to. She had been absent from his life for quite a while before reappearing, but over the course of one day somehow Maria had managed to worm her way inexorably back into his life. It was maddening. It felt like losing Mary all over again. And so, he tried to keep himself numb. He worked, he shopped for groceries, and he tried to keep his thoughts blank when he closed his eyes to sleep. All in all, he did rather well, despite the fact that now there were two faces it was hard not to see when he closed his eyes. James was not an overly emotional man and he managed to keep himself comfortably unfeeling most of the time for the first few days. He supposed, had he not had a reminder that he really should be feeling, he could have continued that way forever.

That reminder came on a particularly cold night. The wind outside made the tree branches thrash against the sides of the house, but James slept like the dead, completely unconscious of the noisy world outside. No amount of stormy weather could jar him from sleep.

"James honey, wake up…"

That soft voice, however, had the power to wake him. He bolted upright in bed as though lightning had struck him, glancing around in the dark.

"Maria?" he asked.

"Not quite," she said again, laughing gently, and James could see her, just beside the edge of his bed, her figure silhouetted in the moonlight. For a moment his heart stopped completely.

"Mary?"

"I've missed you, James." her soft hand, so familiar, reached out and pressed against his cheek. James could smell her unmistakable scent of lavender soap. She looked beautiful, strong and happy like she had been before the sickness had touched her. It was almost like looking at an angel. This was Mary, the real Mary. Not the sick, twisted vision of her that James himself had conjured in Silent Hill, the horrible manifestation that he had had to kill.

"I've… missed you too." it was difficult for James to believe this was really happening. Mary's hand felt real, felt solid against his cheek, but that was no proof. He had made love to Maria, and yet she had vanished into thin air. "Mary… are you real?"

Mary smiled at him a little sadly, and her hand moved to his hair and caressed it just a bit. "Not real in the same way you are," she replied, and James was struck by the fact that a year ago he would not have understood the statement, but at the moment it made perfect sense to him. "I can't stay, James. There are just some things I need to say."

"What are they?" voice trembling, James reached out his hand and found the one of Mary's that rested on top of the covers. He wanted desperately to fall into her arms, to kiss her, but he knew that now was not the time. Though it ached him to know, the time for that had been when she was alive. Those times were gone. Their time together was over.

"I want you to know… that I forgive you," Mary whispered, her hand that stroked him infinitely gentle, in just the same way he remembered. "I need you to stop feeling so guilty. And I need you to stop… denying the things that make you happy, for my sake."

"I don't understand."

"You love her, James. I can see it. I know you love me, and I know you might feel some sort of responsibility to keep yourself true to your vows but James… I'm gone. I can't come back. You moving on… won't hurt me. It's possible to love more than one person. It happens all the time."

James took a moment to mull her words over. "I'll always… love you," he told her carefully, squeezing her hand that felt oh-so real and yet somehow like it could dissolve. "I can never stop loving you. And I can never forgive myself… for what I've done."

"I know it'll take time," Mary said softly. "But you need to let it go. You need to let yourself be forgiven. And for me… you need to move on. Promise me."

"How can I make a promise like that?" James asked, and Mary smiled.

"You'll find a way to forgive yourself, I know you will. You always were a strong person, James. I've been watching you, and I know you've been living your life shouldering all this guilt and pain. But you can move on. You can be happy. It's what I want more than anything."

"Then… I'll try," James agreed. It was strange; he had wanted nothing more than to see her since the night she died, and now that he had finally given up she was here, and he had not even had to go and look for her.

"I know you will," Mary smiled gently at him. "And James… there's something else."

"What is it?"

"That woman… Maria… I know you believe she's dead. But she isn't."

James was taken aback. "What?"

"What you read about happened three weeks ago. She survived the incident that you believe killed her, and she's been hospitalized ever since. She still isn't conscious, but she's alive."

"But I was in Silent Hill less than three weeks ago…" James muttered. "I saw her there. Who… was that, then? Who did I see in Silent Hill?"

Mary looked slightly amused at his confusion, which James supposed was unfair, given the fact that she was on an entirely different plane of existence, could see and know things he could never dream of. James was not a ghost nor an angel, or whatever it was that Mary had become.

"She's in a coma, James. Who knows where her mind is? I'm sure some part of her- the part you met- was really there… looking for you." For a moment, there was only silence, and Mary petted his hand a bit the way a mother would. "I can't stay."

"I know."

"Please try to be happy," Mary looked a bit concerned, and James felt a flash of guilt at the fact that he could even worry her in death. "I love you very much."

"I love you too," a sense of desperation was beginning to set in at the fact that he knew she was about to leave him once again, but he stopped and tried to calm himself down. He was ready to let go of Mary, he reminded himself. Going to that terrible town, facing that raw guilt head on and coming out alive… that was what it was all preparing him for, and now he had to be alright without her, even after the beautiful torture of being able to see her again. For the sake of his own sanity, he had to be able to let go. "Will I see you again?"

Mary smiled. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I'll think of you, and I know you'll think of me. That's just as good. Just… be happy, and don't dwell on me. Move on. You need to go on with your life. Someone is waiting for you."

It wasn't just as good, but James nodded anyway. He held her hand perhaps tighter than he should have, and for one final, brief moment he pressed into his memory the warm brown of her eyes before he was once again alone in the room.

"Thank you… for making me happy," Mary whispered in the empty bedroom, no face to go with the voice, and then there was silence.

"Mary…" James said softly, the single word falling from his lips like a lead weight. For a moment he pressed his hands to his face, resisting the temptation to cry, and then he found his resolve. Very slowly, he slid the wedding ring from his finger. It hurt him to do it, but he opened the drawer on the bedside table where Mary had once kept her things and dropped it inside. Mary was right. It was time for him to move on with his life.

**XXX**

When James arrived at Saint Jerome's hospital, the sun was just beginning to creep out from behind the clouds. He stepped inside without the most cheerful expectations, but he was determined to see this visit through even if it ended up doing nothing but depressing him. So far, it was not off to a wonderful start; just being in this building reminded James of Mary's illness and it was a daunting feeling.

James approached the front desk almost nervously, and the woman behind it peered up at him with horn rimmed spectacles. "Can I have Maria Townshend's room number, please?" he asked.

"Are you family?"

"Well, no."

"I'm sorry, but we can't give out patient information to anyone but the patients' family," the woman behind the counter informed him and, discouraged, he stepped back. Wandering the entire hospital peeking his head into room after until he found her did not sound like a thrilling prospect, and for a moment he was at a loss. This visit was something he felt like he needed to do, but the day was not going at all as he had hoped. He was starting to think that perhaps leaving was his only option.

"Excuse me?" James shook himself out of his thoughts at the sight of a small brunette moving over to him. "Did you say you were looking for Maria Townshend?"

"Yes," James replied.

"Are you a friend of hers?" the woman asked with a kind smile. James nodded, and the woman turned around. "Henry, come over here."

A rather scruffy looking man who had been standing near the doors waiting for the woman approached, his posture clearly indicating that he would rather be anywhere else at the moment. "What is it Eileen?"

"Henry, this is…"

"James," James replied. "James Sunderland."

"This is James Sunderland. He says he's a friend of Maria's."

"Oh," Henry replied simply, nodding. "It's… nice to meet you."

Eileen sighed slightly and continued for him. "This is Henry Townshend. Maria is his sister. We were just on our way out… we were visiting."

"She's in room 543," Henry told James. "If you'd like to visit her."

"I would. Thanks," James said, nodding to him.

"I'm glad you're here," Eileen told him. "Maria doesn't get many visitors. The doctor said that they think she can hear what you're saying, so I'm sure she'll be glad to have you visit. She's doing a lot better… a few days ago she started improving a lot."

"We're going to miss our lunch reservation," Henry said to Eileen, who smiled warmly at him.

"I'm sorry, I forgot you were hungry. I didn't mean to get caught up in conversation," she said, reaching for his hand. "It was nice meeting you, James."

"Nice meeting you, too."

Henry nodded at James and then he and Eileen exited through the front doors, leaving James to the daunting task of finding room 543. Finding the elevator was no problem, and getting to the fifth floor took only moments. But the branches of rooms did not seem to be arranged in as organized of a manner as he would have expected, and it seemed to be simply a matter of wandering around checking the small plastic room number signs outside each door until he found the one with 543 on it, somewhere down the farthest hallway. James took a moment to steady himself outside the room, and then he took a deep breath and went in.

The room was empty of doctors and nurses for the moment, and for that he was grateful. The bed was situated near the windows, and James moved over to it slowly. Maria lay on her back, covered with the starchy white blanket. Assorted tubes connected her to the machinery around her and there was something about seeing her lying in the hospital bed that made him want to flinch. However, he moved closer to the bed, ignoring his impulse to run away. The pink in Maria's hair had faded, and dark roots attested to the time she had spent lying here, helpless. Carefully James lowered himself into the chair beside the bed. Somehow it felt like everything had been leading up to this. This was the kind of situation he had been running from, the kind of situation that conjured up memories he didn't want to face. But James was ready now. He couldn't just keep running away. That town had made him see that.

"Maria…" he muttered. For a moment, he was simply silent. Maria looked strange when she wasn't moving, and completely different without her makeup. Her hand lay on top of the sheet and he took it gently, lacing his fingers through hers. The fact that she was here, alive and breathing and looking just the way he remembered her made him feel like he could handle feeling again. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." for a moment, he felt like he was going to choke. "All the time we spent together… the whole time, all I wanted was Mary, and I constantly made you feel second to her. I can see that now. Even after I told you that you were enough, I never acted like it, and I always put a dead woman before you."

Outside the window, the sun was weak and a soft sprinkle of rain made it even weaker. James stared out into the world for a moment. He could take all the time he wanted, he realized. She was here, really here, and she wasn't going to fade away. This time, he was not going to push her away, was not going to run, was not going to hold in everything he wanted to say to her.

"I suppose I was wrong, always making you feel like you weren't enough, and lashing out at you when I was hurting because I missed Mary. For that, I'm sorry. And I did… I mean I do… love you. I'm not sure how well I'll do with this feeling after everything that's happened, but I'll work on it. I'll try. I just wanted you know. About all of it."

For a long moment, there was only silence and the two of them in that room together. This was what James had been afraid of, this quiet closeness, this thing that reminded him of the good times, not the painful times. Despite the fact that she was unconscious in a hospital bed and James really had no way of knowing if she would ever recover, it was hard to think of the bad times. Somehow, Maria seemed to have a knack for making him forget.

"I also wanted… to thank you," he said softly. James was not the most openly emotional man in the world, but for just a moment he allowed a tear to travel down his cheek in a hot, slow trail before he wiped it away, and no more came. "I guess I never really… took the time to appreciate what you did for me. You probably didn't even mean to but… you woke me up, and reminded me what it was like to be alive again. I don't even know if you can hear me, or if you'll ever come out of this but I want you to know that I'll keep coming." swallowing, James forced himself to look at her face. "I'll come as often as I can, and I'll talk to you. I'll do it so… you won't have to be alone."

James sighed heavily. It felt like a great weight had lifted from his shoulders, and still holding Maria's hand, he stared out the window into the heavy gray day, wondering what to do now, now that he had said everything he needed to say. He was still pondering when he felt a light squeeze on his hand. Alarmed, he looked down, and was surprised to see a pair of blue eyes watching him, as though they had been able to see him all along.

"James."

And he smiled.

**The End.**


End file.
